The School’s Top Idol Is Acting Like She’s My Childhood Friend for Some Reason and Just Keeps Closing the Distance on Her Own…?! ~Stop Getting All Gloomy on Me Just Because I Turned You Down!~
The next day, I was supposed to hang out with four friends I’d known since kindergarten.
Officially, it was supposed to be our last outing of spring break.
But in reality, I think it was a get-together to cheer me on as I started high school the next day. They didn’t say it outright. But the way they’d set the meeting time and place so early, and the way they didn’t give me a chance to back out, made their intentions all too obvious.
I slipped my feet into my sneakers at the front door and reached for the doorknob.
In that split second, a nasty voice resurfaced in the back of my mind.
[You’re not going to turn out to be a decent adult if you keep this up.]
[Your parents are going to have a hard time. And when you have kids of your own, you’re the one who’s going to suffer.]
More than the words themselves, it was the atmosphere when they were spoken that I hated.
The white classroom lights. The dust gathered by the window. The feeling that everyone was staring at me, yet no one would help. That sensation of having to swallow the words pooled in my mouth because I knew speaking up would only make things worse.
My palms were slightly sweaty.
I took a single deep breath and opened the front door.
The light outside stung my eyes. The spring air was unnaturally bright, clear as a bell, completely oblivious to my circumstances.
I unlocked my bike and put my feet on the pedals.
The town where I live isn’t quite big enough to call a city, but it’s a bit too noisy to call the countryside. Once you pass through the residential area, there’s a major road, with a fair number of people lining up at the bus stop, and on weekends, families and students gather at the shopping mall. It was a town that was halfway convenient and halfway full of people.
By the time I arrived at the shopping mall, our meeting spot, the voices from earlier had faded just a little.
In the plaza in front of the entrance, four familiar faces were lined up.
“Hey! Seita!”
“Hey.”
I raised my hand slightly in return.
That’s when my “public self” naturally came out.
When I’m at home, I live as energy-efficiently as possible. But when I’m out in public, it’s different. I raise my voice a little, laugh a bit sooner, and nod at the other person’s words with almost exaggerated enthusiasm. It was a mask I’d acquired in middle school to avoid causing any unnecessary trouble.
Maybe I didn’t need to wear that mask in front of these four.
Still, once a habit is ingrained, it’s hard to shake off.
First, we stopped by a bookstore. We scanned the manga section from one end to the other, getting pointlessly excited over whether to buy a book based on its cover, and engaged in pointless debates about who had the best eye for manga—debates with no clear winner.
After that, we went to the movie theater. We saw a popular anime movie, and I didn’t miss the fact that the friend sitting next to me was sniffling during the climax. When I pointed it out after the movie, he made a nonsensical excuse, saying that salt from the popcorn had just gotten in his eye.
At the arcade, I got completely crushed at the claw machines; at the food court, I ate a limited-edition burger; and at the card shop, I bought just two packs of the new set. The results when I opened them were neither great nor terrible—the kind of thing that’s hard to react to. Finally, to make up for the casual clothes I was missing, I bought a random hoodie.
Before I knew it, time had slipped away.
Before I knew it, my phone screen showed 6:00 PM.
As I walked toward the mall exit, I realized for the first time in a long while that my chest felt light. It wasn’t that my memories of middle school had vanished. But at least today, there were a few moments when I actually laughed—not just pretended to.
“See ya, Seita.”
“Don’t oversleep tomorrow.”
“Don’t start making legends at the entrance ceremony, okay?”
“I won’t.”
My friends each left me with a casual remark and scattered toward the bus stops and the station.
I was the only one left behind near the exit.
Why is it always so quiet when we part ways after hanging out with friends? The echoes of the conversation, which had been almost deafening just moments ago, suddenly receded from around me. Even though I was in the middle of a crowd, it felt as if only my volume had been turned down.
I let out a small sigh.
As I released the tension in my shoulders, I could feel the “public” version of myself slipping away.
“Maybe I’ll stick around a little longer.”
I turned back, pulling my feet away from the bike rack, and stepped back into the shopping mall.
I don’t actually mind being alone.
In fact, the real me is more comfortable alone. I don’t have to read anyone’s mood. I don’t have to search for topics of conversation. I don’t have to adjust my energy level to suit the other person’s preferences. I can dive into my own world and just gaze at the things I love.
Of course, if that went on forever, I’d get lonely.
But the time spent returning to solitude after being with someone was necessary to catch my breath.
Spring break ends tomorrow, and at the same time, a new school life begins.
Thinking about that fact makes the pit of my stomach feel a little heavy again. I don’t plan on doing anything as grand as making a “high school debut.” I just want to go to class normally, attend lessons normally, and go home normally. That’s all I need. For me right now, simply hoping for that was a goal more than big enough.
My feet suddenly carried me toward the bookstore.
Even though I’d just been there with a friend a little while ago, before I knew it, I was standing in front of the manga section again. I picked up the original manga for the anime I’d watched yesterday, School Romantic Comedies Don’t Need Youth!!.
The heroine on the cover had a slightly more mature expression than she did in the anime. The soft color palette, the gentle lines, even the way the wrinkles fell in her uniform—it was strangely right up my alley.
I love school romantic comedies.
And I hate them.
They present events that seem plausible in real life but rarely actually happen, making them seem perfectly normal within the story. The beautiful girl sitting next to you suddenly strikes up a conversation. Sharing secrets in the classroom after school. Sharing a single umbrella on a rainy day. Someone finally noticing you for who you really are.
Every time I read them, my heart soars.
But when I close the book and return to reality, I can’t help but realize that none of that is in store for my own life.
That disparity has hurt me time and time again.
Yet, I still find myself picking them up.
Precisely because I know these are dreamlike stories, there are moments when they offer me salvation. When reality gets too tough, sometimes I find myself catching my breath in the midst of a youth that’s impossibly convenient.
That’s why I love romantic comedies, hate them, and probably, in the end, love them.
“‘Romantic comedies are the only way to go, after all.’”
Our voices overlapped.
It was completely simultaneous.
I reflexively turned my head to the side.
Standing there was a beautiful girl who looked like she’d stepped right out of the pages of a magazine.
She wore her hat pulled low over her eyes and had on a pair of thin, fashionable glasses. Even so, she couldn’t completely hide it: her long, beautiful brown hair. Her well-groomed locks glistened softly under the bookstore’s white lighting, and the ends swayed gently over her shoulders. Her skin was translucently pale, and while her eyes had a cool, aloof look, her pupils alone held a strangely warm, friendly glow.
She was holding the same manga and saying the exact same words.
That fact made everything feel strangely unreal.
“Um, I’m sorry. That was a weird thing to say.”
I was the one who apologized first. My voice was probably a little shaky.
“Ah, no, no! Not at all! I just didn’t expect someone else to say the exact same thing at the exact same time.”
She blinked a few times, then smiled slightly.
Her smile was overwhelmingly powerful.
I immediately decided to make a retreat. In situations like this, if you’re the kind of person who can keep a conversation going, your life might change a little. But I am Seita Takahara. There’s no way I could come up with a witty comeback to a beautiful girl who just appeared out of nowhere.
I clutched the original manga volume in my hands and headed toward the register as if fleeing the scene.
I thought I heard something said behind me.
But before I could realize it was directed at me, I had already slipped into the checkout line.
By the time I’d paid and made my way back to the mall’s exit, the bag in my hand had grown a little heavier. The items I’d bought with my friends, and the romance comedy manga I’d just picked up. Inside the bag, I could hear the corners of the new volume lightly bumping against each other.
School starts tomorrow, huh.
The moment that thought crossed my mind, a thin veil seemed to settle over the end of what had been a fun day.
Beyond the automatic doors, the evening sky stretched out before me. Spring twilight is strangely beautiful, which is precisely why it’s no good for distracting me from my anxiety.
Just as I was about to step outside, a small commotion broke out a short distance away.
That beautiful girl who had been standing in front of the bookstore was now surrounded by a group of what looked like high school boys, hidden behind a pillar.
Well, it wasn’t exactly as blatant as being “surrounded.” They were just closing in on her, smartphones in hand, pretending it was a coincidence. But the girl at the center of them had stiff shoulders, and her fingertips were clenched tightly around the brim of her cap.
“Hey, isn’t that Hoshimiya Rino?”
“She looks just like her. Can we take a picture?”
“Wouldn’t it be crazy if it really was her?”
That name sounded familiar to me.
Hoshimiya Rino.
A current junior high school student who’s both a model and an idol. She appears in commercials and TV dramas, and I often see her in online ads. She’d become a hot topic for her ethereal looks and her smile, which was so perfect it looked fake.
I thought, “No way.”
But her fingertips felt far too fragile to just let it go.
I hesitated for a moment, then immediately started walking toward her.
It’s better not to get involved. If I meddle, it’ll just cause trouble. Of course, I had those thoughts. I learned that well enough in middle school. Stay away from trouble. Keep a low profile. If something happens, don’t stick your neck out.
But the moment the manga she was holding fell to the floor, those thoughts flew out the window.
The cover was about to get stepped on.
I squeezed through the crowd and picked up the manga from the floor. While I was at it, I took the hoodie I’d bought with a friend out of my shopping bag and slung it casually over her shoulders. I pulled the hood down a little lower so it would hide her face.
“Excuse me, she’s with me.”
To my own surprise, my voice came out normally.
The guys turned to look at us. Their stares pierced me. My heart made an unpleasant sound. Even so, instead of grabbing her wrist, I gently tugged at the cuff of her hoodie.
It just didn’t feel right to touch her.
If I was trying to help someone who was scared, it wouldn’t make sense for me to suddenly close the distance too.
She froze for just a moment, then nodded slightly.
I took her by the hand and led her away from the scene. Rather than running, I tried to walk as naturally as possible. Walking too fast would only draw attention. We blended into the crowd, passed through the hallway next to the escalator, and finally stopped at a bench hidden behind a vending machine and some potted plants.
Only then did she let out a soft sigh.
Under the hood of her hoodie, her eyelashes trembled slightly.
“…I’m sorry. I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m just glad the manga is safe.”
“Huh?”
She looked up.
I held out the original manga volume I’d picked up. There was a little dust on the corner of the cover, so I brushed it off with my finger before handing it to her. At a time like this, it didn’t feel right to bring up topics like her true identity or the fact that she might have been photographed.
At least for me, I wouldn’t want that brought up.
I wouldn’t want the person who helped me to confirm that I’d panicked or been scared.
“The cover isn’t stepped on. I think it’s probably fine.”
She took the manga with both hands.
Her fingertips relaxed just a little more than before.
“So that’s what you’re worried about, huh?”
“Don’t you hate it when people treat the things you love roughly?”
After I said it, I thought I might have overstepped my bounds.
But she didn’t laugh. There was no teasing reaction, nor an awkwardly polite reply. She simply looked down at the manga’s cover, her lips pressed into a tight line.
In the shadow of her hood, I could only see half her face.
Even so, I could tell her ears were slightly red.
“…I don’t like it.”
Her voice was a little softer than when we’d spoken at the bookstore earlier.
“Saying you like something is easy when it’s part of job. Because you have a script. But talking about the things I like in everyday life is somehow… hard.”
“I get it.”
I really did understand, just a little bit.
Saying you like something is surprisingly scary. People might laugh at you. They might dismiss it. They might call it silly. The deeper that “like” is rooted inside you, the more courage it takes to show it to someone else.
“But I was genuinely happy about what you said just now. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen someone say the exact same thing at the exact same time.”
She looked up.
Our eyes met.
The eyes peeking out from under her hood were looking straight at me. It wasn’t the polished smile she’d had just a moment ago. It was a strangely vulnerable expression, a mix of surprise, confusion, and a sense that she wasn’t holding anything back.
“Um… may I ask your name?”
I hesitated for a moment at her question.
If I told her my name, the conversation would probably continue for a little while. Maybe we’d even end up exchanging social media handles. In a typical romantic comedy, the protagonist would naturally introduce himself at this point.
But she was probably a celebrity.
Even though she was pretending not to know me, I recognized her name. It didn’t feel right for me to be the one to close the distance with someone like that.
Besides, I’m not confident enough in my social skills yet to just introduce myself and step into her world.
“My name… doesn’t really matter.”
“Huh?”
“If someone’s in trouble, I can help them without telling them my name.”
Her eyes widened slightly.
Realizing her reaction, I suddenly felt embarrassed. What kind of pretentious thing was I saying? Didn’t I just spout a line straight out of a romantic comedy?
No, that’s not it. That wasn’t my intention. Absolutely not.
I hurriedly looked away and pointed at the hoodie draped over her shoulders.
“Once things settle down, please leave that somewhere. It’s a cheap one, so it’s fine if it gets lost.”
“N-no, that’s not okay. I’ll give it back.”
“Then, sometime later.”
“Sometime…”
She opened her mouth as if to say something, but perhaps noticing the stares of people passing by, she immediately pulled the brim of her cap down.
I didn’t try to stop her any further.
I didn’t even check if she was a celebrity.
If she really was Hoshimiya, staying here any longer would be dangerous. Even if she wasn’t, I have no interest in needlessly holding up a girl who’s just had a scary experience.
“Well then.”
“Ah, um!”
I turned around when she called out to me.
She was clutching the sleeves of her hoodie with both hands. Holding the manga to her chest, she was searching for the right words. She was visibly flustered, which didn’t quite match her delicate features.
“Will we see each other again?”
Those words left me at a loss.
There was no guarantee we would. I didn’t know her name or which school she went to. We’d just happened to pick up the same manga at the same bookstore and happened to say the same thing.
So, I could only offer a vague smile.
“If we like the same series, maybe we’ll run into each other somewhere someday.”
After saying that, I finally started walking.
I could still feel her gaze on my back, but I didn’t turn around. If I did, I felt like I might say something I shouldn’t.
By the time I left the shopping mall, the sunset had grown deeper.
As I headed toward the bike rack, I looked at my right hand. The sensation from when I’d draped my hoodie over her shoulder a moment ago still lingered slightly.
She was an incredibly beautiful girl.
Maybe she really was Hoshimiya Rino.
But that had nothing to do with my life.
Events like those in a romantic comedy don’t last very long in real life. Even if something happens, it doesn’t necessarily mean a story will begin from there. Just like getting caught in a passing shower, it would remain in my memory as a slightly memorable day, and eventually fade away.
I decided to convince myself of that.
Otherwise, I feared I might start harboring unnecessary expectations for high school life, which was set to begin tomorrow.
Maigetsu